


Get It Out

by rocksalts



Series: Suptober20 [26]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Slash, Sam Winchester Walks in on Castiel/Dean Winchester, Wet Clothing, and it seems compromising but it isnt they swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27224506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rocksalts/pseuds/rocksalts
Summary: Cas and Dean try to clean up after a run in with their monster of the week.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Suptober20 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1977244
Comments: 5
Kudos: 98





	Get It Out

**Author's Note:**

> suptober20 day 26 prompt: walk of shame (ficlet) | destiel + sam | 1k words

Dean would never live it down if Sam found him like this. But of course, luck was not on his side today.

The first problem was that he was wet. Clothes-sticking-to-your-skin wet, down to his socks, which was just _gross_ , but that wasn’t even the worst part of it.

He was wet and crammed into a tiny ass motel bathtub in the middle of Flatwoods, West Virginia, with…well. Dean casts his eyes to the opposite side of the tub, rubbing his forehead uneasily.

“Do you think we got all of it?” Cas asks, hair dripping water into his eyes.

His trench coat had been abandoned on the toilet lid, along with his suit jacket and tie, which Cas had thrown across the bathroom in his rush to get clean. Dean tries to keep his eyes on Cas’ face, ignoring how Cas’ shirt sticks practically see-through against his chest.

“Hope so,” Dean answers, clearing his throat of its initial roughness. “Still smell like burning metal and sulfur, though.”

He looks away, making a face at the stench. It could be _worse_ , if he was honest—at least his eyes had stopped burning, but Cas continued to rub at his every so often.

Dean instinctively reached out a hand to pull Cas’ fingers away from his eyes on one of these instances, cringing internally at the way they must still be burning.

“Don’t. They probably still have that goo all over them. Let me see.”

He brought Cas’ hand close, inspecting underneath his fingernails and between crevices for any of the black liquid they’d encountered. Cas’ hands were surprisingly…soft. Dean turned his wrist so that Cas’ palm faced up, frowning a little as he stroked his thumb across it.

“Dean.”

Dean looked up. At some point he had leaned closer, because Cas’ face was _right there_ , staring at him with worry.

“Did you…find anything?”

Dean directed his gaze back down at Cas’ hand, abruptly letting go.

“No,” his voice was hoarse again. Dean swallowed. “No, you’re good.”

He could feel Cas watching him, but Dean was pointedly looking away.

Suffice to say he hadn’t expected it when the shower spray hit him again full force, jolting and bracing himself against the tub when it did.

“ _The hell?”_

“You said we still smelled,” Cas said from the other side of the spray. He had a small bottle of shampoo in his hands, like the ones motels usually carried, and brought it up to his nose to sniff it once before squeezing some onto his hand.

Dean shot a glance at the door, which was still wide open from their barging in. Sam would be back soon from the morgue, and they would still be…

Dean felt fingers dig into his scalp, massaging soothing, rhythmic circles into his hair. He faced Cas again, blinked once, and lurched back when realization struck him. Cas’ hands were covered in soap suds.

“What—what are you—”

Cas huffed. “Obviously I am trying to get the stench out.”

“And the stench is in my hair?” Dean would pretend later that his voice hadn’t gone up a few octaves when he said that.

“It’s _everywhere_ , Dean, but the hair’s a good place to start.”

Cas leaned forward into the stream of water, trying to get his hands back into Dean’s hair, but Dean just kept leaning further back, dodging Cas’ attempts until he started to slide down to the floor of the tub. 

“Stay still,” Cas grumbled, on all fours now. He loomed over Dean, trapping Dean’s legs between his and blocking most of the water with his back.

“No, I can do it myself!”

“Dean, just let me–”

“Where’s the bottle?”

Dean pushed himself up, expecting Cas to move out of the way. But he didn’t, because Cas had no concept of personal space, and then Cas’ hand slipped, and they were a heap on the tub floor.

They stayed like that for a moment, faces too close, Dean’s heart racing dramatically. 

“Uh…guys? What are…you…”

Dean flinched. Oh god. 

He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the bathroom door tap the wall, wishing he could hide behind the walls of the tub forever.

This was literally the _worst_ possible scenario.

Cas sat up, which would have been great if they weren’t completely wet, and if Cas wasn’t _straddling Dean’s lap_.

“Hello Sam,” Cas said, water still beating over him. “Your brother is extremely stubborn.”

“Cas. Turn the water off.”

“But–”

“Now!”

Cas sighed and reached behind him, shutting the water off.

“Do I even want to know?” Sam asked. 

Dean groaned when he got up, glaring at Cas and pushing his chest a little in what he hoped was a friendly tease. Standing, water poured off of him and back into the tub in thick streams. He took one (very soggy, sock-clad) foot out and stepped onto the tile.

Sam was looking at him with a mix of amusement and disgust.

“Long story short, we’re pretty sure it’s Braxxie.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Braxxie?”

“The local mythical creature, named after the county. It can create mist and black goo.” Cas said from the tub.

Dean jabbed a finger over his shoulder at Cas. “Hence the bath. We met the mist and the goo. Burns like a son of a bitch.” He waved a hand half-heartedly at Sam.

“Move, I’m trying to do my walk of shame here to the nearest set of clean clothes.” 

Sam laughed, glancing between Cas and Dean.

“So...that was it, huh?”

Dean plucked a towel from one of the shelves above the toilet, drying his hair. “What do you mean ‘that’s it’? We’ve got our monster.”

“Yeah,” Sam cleared his throat, and Dean peeked up at him. “Right, well. Go do your walk of shame, then. There’s some t-shirts in the duffle I think. Oh, and–” Sam sniffed him on his way out.

“You smell like sulfur and...metal.”

Dean’s expression fell, and he gave Cas the most deadpan look he could muster.

“Told you so.”

**Author's Note:**

> hiii! if you enjoyed please let me know! you can also catch me on tumblr @rambleoncas ((:


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